Scott Pilgrim and the Seven Deadly Sins

Chapter Two: Gluttony - Wallace Wells

Sup, it's PumpkinGrin. Here's the second installment of SPatSDS. I know it seems a little strange to have Wallace representing Gluttony, but his preference for alcohol led me to do this. It also has a twist of Envy and/or Lust in it, but is not related to Knives. It's…oh, just read it. Enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Scott Pilgrim belongs to Bryan Lee O'Malley. I only own this fanfiction.

Wallace didn't want to be more blunt than he was known to be, but he had to admit that he was glad Scott was out of the house tonight. Well, apartment, if you want to get technical.

Tonight was the night that Wallace has been anticipating for a week. He and Other Scott had arranged to have a little get-together at the local gay bar, in celebration of Other Scott's birthday. It had been Wallace's idea, and had reassured Other Scott that he was going to pay for everything. After all, when it's your birthday, you want to be the one to get drunk for free, right?

Wallace waited politely in the small apartment, watching as Scott was trying to find his other shoe. Silly Scott, always losing everything. Why did he have to be so disorganized? Still, it amused Wallace and gave him something to do as he waited.

Finally, Scott left. Said something about a party he was going to with Ramona. How ironic, the 25-year-old thought.

As soon as Scott disappeared down the corner, Wallace pulled on his jacket, grabbed his wallet, and took his keys before exiting the apartment. To be sure, he locked the door. He loved giving Scott hell.

He met up with Other Scott at Pizza Pizza, their planned rendezvous point. As soon as they met up, they left and turned down the alley into a rather shady street. Although, Wallace knew that you should never judge a book by its cover; this street hosted some of Wallace's favorite bars.

Wallace led Other Scott to their destination, making small talk about their days. But soon the small talk died away as they reached the bar. Loud thumping music could be heard already, and they hadn't even entered yet.

"Alright, ready to have the time of your life, buddy?" Wallace grinned at Other Scott.

"You bet, let's go get hammered!" Other Scott cheered, and they walked in.

It took no time for Wallace to feel at home. He knew a lot of the patrons here, and knew most of them by name. He knew where the good spots were to either sit for a quite drink, or to have fun and party. Of course, they were looking for a spot for the latter.

"Hold on, wait here. I'll go get us something to drink," Wallace said to Other Scott, gesturing to a circular table. Other Scott nodded and sat down as Wallace made his way to the bar counter.

"Oh, if it ain't Wallace Wells," The bartender, a nice guy named Freddy, greeted. He was in the middle of drying a few glasses for use. "Our most infamous guest."

Wallace winked. "Don't you know it. Anyways, it's Scott's birthday today-"

"Oh, I heard!"

"Mhmm. We plan on celebrating here tonight. Wanna hook us up?"

Freddy gave Wallace a cheeky grin. "You bet! So, what'll it be tonight? The usual?"

Wallace leaned on the smooth marble counter, his face scrunched up in contemplation. "Hmm…nah. We want something festive tonight. Got any ideas?" He suggested.

Freddy frowned in thought. "Let's see…" He murmured before smiling slyly at Wallace. "I think I have just the thing. Wait here, I'll go see if we have any more." With that, he ducked into a nearby storage closet.

Wallace remained seated at the bar, admiring the flashy strobe lights that flickered about and all of the guys. A lot of cute ones, he noted. Maybe he could spare a drink or two with them during his stay? Maybe if he was lucky –and Wallace was always lucky– he would be able to snag one home with him. Just because it was Other Scott's birthday didn't mean Wallace couldn't have a little fun himself. He was paying for this, after all.

Just as he was mentally surveying the attractiveness of a couple of guys a few feet away from him, he felt a presence appear next to him. He turned around to see a rather impish young man with short dirty blonde hair and sleepy eyes. Bedroom eyes.

"Well, hello there," Wallace leaned a bit on the counter, smiling at the guy. "Now, who might you be?"

The blonde gave Wallace a similar grin, although Wallace could've sworn he detected a bit of bitterness. "Don't you remember, Wallace?" He replied, tipping his head ever so slightly to the left. "It's me, Ray."

Wallace quirked a brow; he was scouring every bit of his memory for any remembrance of Ray. Then suddenly, he started remembering a time at a different bar, talking to a mischievous-looking blonde, flirting with him, kissing him, taking him home…

"Oh, Ray!" Wallace nodded, satisfied at his mental victory. "I remember! How've you been? How's life doing for you?"

Ray gave a small shrug, shifting in his seat to gaze around at the expanse of the bar. "Oh, everything's going fine, just dandy. Y'know, ever since you kicked me out."

Wallace inwardly groaned. "Oh, don't be like that. You know I didn't mean it. It was for my roommate's sake. I didn't want you to leave."

Ray was quiet for a bit, before turning back to the dark-haired man and smirking. "Hm. Well, maybe I'll let it slide if I treat you to a drink," he proposed, with a cheeky smile to boot.

Well…maybe Wallace could spare a couple of bucks on a round of shots.

"Hmm…alright, you've got yourself a deal."

Freddy returned with a special bottle of scotch for Wallace and Other Scott, but Wallace didn't immediately take it to Other Scott. Instead he left it by his side and ordered five shots for both of them.

"Here's to apologies and leaving the past where it is," The raven-haired man said softly. He held up one of his shots of liquor, holding it gingerly yet firmly.

"Hear, hear!" Ray laughed, a musical chuckle that Wallace enjoyed. Their glasses chinked together before meeting their owner's lips.

An indefinite amount of time passed; Wallace honestly couldn't tell how long he had been sitting at the bar. It felt like he had been sitting here for years and years, with Ray and without Other Scott. He thought he tried to pry him away from the bar a couple of times, but he must have shooed him away in his drunken stupor. Wallace made a mental note to apologize later; he was going to have to make it up to him somehow.

But now, it was his and Ray's moment. Wallace liked his smile, which showed gleaming flawless teeth. His blond hair was cut in a rather cute way, and looked shorter than what it had been last time when they slept together. Or maybe it was always that short; the scotch wasn't helping Wallace remember. Nonetheless, it was a cute hairstyle. He wanted to run his hands through it.

"Freddy!" He called out sluggishly, tipping to his right slightly. " 'Nother!"

Freddy looked up from pouring a class of champagne and frowned uneasily. "Oh, I dunno, Wallace. You look like you've had enough to drink tonight."

"Ya kiddin' me? I'm W-Wallace mother-effin' Wells! I'm the not drunkest-drunk guy on the entire planet!" Wallace boasted. Ray, who wasn't as drunk as Wallace, chuckled a bit.

The bartender shook his head as he handed his customer the glass of champagne. "Alright, whatever you say," he muttered as he went to fill up the duo's shots. The majority of the empty glasses were Wallace's, to both Freddy and Wallace's chagrin.

The drunken man looked at Ray and his three full shots. " 'Ey, why aren't you drinkin,' huh?" he asked, a bit of a hurt edge to his hazy voice. "I bough' those for you, buddy."

Ray grimaced as he looked at his glasses. "I don't really care for this alcohol," the blonde confessed. "It's a bit too strong for my tastes."

Wallace gazed sleepily at Ray in newfound concern. "Oh, ohhhh. Oh, okay. D-do you wann' 'nother one? Diff'rent one?" His speech was steadily slurring together.

Ray began to twirl the glass on the bar counter, his palm arched over it and his fingers spinning it around. "Nah, I've got work tomorrow. But…" he glanced at Wallace with a small smile, holding the glass out to him. "You can have it."

Wallace grinned. "Aw, 'ow sweet," he said before placing a small drunken kiss on Ray's lips. Surprisingly, Ray did not kiss back, but instead recoiled a little bit. Wallace was too drunk to notice, and took the glass away from Ray. He uttered a small "Thanks," before downing it in one gulp.

"Wallace?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry, I've gotta confess."

"Well…I'm no priest, but you're more than welcome."

Ray spoke as Freddy came back with filled shot glasses. "I'm afraid I've deceived you."

A shot of alcohol washed down Wallace's throat. " 'Ow so?"

"I haven't forgiven you."

Wallace paused, looking up at Ray. He looked strangely somber, with a cold calculating look in his eyes. "Wha? Whaddya mean?" he asked, blinking through his haze. "I-I…I bought these for you. As an apology, right?"

Ray looked away, frowning. "Well, yeah, but that doesn't make up for what you did."

Wallace groaned, sounding like a strangled cat while doing so. "Awwwh, that's in the past, right? I though' we established that, din't we?" He complained, emptying another glass. His brain was getting fuzzier and fuzzier; he started feeling a bit bloated, but his senses were too muted to register it. More alcohol…he wanted more.

Ray glanced at his watch, then up at Wallace. "We did. And I have established that I still haven't forgiven you."

Wallace opened his mouth, but no words came out. He choked on that air that was escaping him, his eyes bulging in their sockets. He lost the feeling in his arms and legs, so he didn't feel himself falling to the floor. People gaped, but dismissed him as some sorry guy who had a little too much tonight.

His lungs were on fire, malfunctioning. His brain disconnected itself from his body, leaving him on the floor flopping about like a fish. Whatever words he tried to speak tore through his throat like razor blades, causing his throat to writhe in agony.

Before Wallace's eyesight blurred out, he looked up at Ray, who was glancing down at him with an expression he could not describe.

And then he was gone.

Scott gasped, a sharp intake of breath surging in through his nose and mouth. His eyes flew open as he swung up to a sitting position. His chest rose and fell rapidly, struggling to gather in every ounce of air he could. His throat was being crushed, constricted, he was dying—

"Scott?"

He snapped out of his panic to look at Ramona, who was standing in the doorway to her bathroom. She had just finished dyeing her hair, replacing the blue with a dark crimson. A look of suspicion and concern was gleaming in her eyes.

Scott panted as he regained control of his breathing, staring at Ramona incredulously whilst doing so. He had broken out in a cold sweat, his brown hair matted to his forehead. He opened his mouth and formed invisible words.

"Scott?" Ramona repeated, approaching him slowly. "What's wrong? Did you dream about Knives again?"

Scott shook his head, staring blankly into space. He could still recall that horrible choking sensation, imagining his throat convulsing and shriveling up.

His girlfriend sat on the edge of the bed, trying to steal his gaze from an invisible spot on the wall. "Scott, what is it? C'mon, just tell me. I'll listen."

Scott swallowed and felt his throat throb in memory of the dream. "Wall…Wallace… It was Wallace." He wheezed, unconsciously massaging his throat. He looked downward at the memory of Wallace convulsing.

Ramona frowned, entirely consumed by concern for her boyfriend. "Do you wanna talk about it?" She asked softly; she was a bit surprised of the tenderness in her voice, but she ignored it.

Scott wanted to say no, but he found himself speaking anyway. "Wallace and Other Scott…they were at a bar. A gay bar, or something. It was…it was Other Scott's birthday, they were celebrating. Then…"

"Then…?"

"Then, um…Wallace met this guy, Ray. He had slept with him once, but he got kicked out or something. I think it was because of me." Scott said, guilt tinged in his voice.

Ramona had to roll her eyes.

Scott continued. "So, they were drinking together, y'know? Like, old buddies and stuff. But then Wallace got really drunk. I mean, like, really drunk. He just kept drinking and drinking," he recalled, twirling his hand in a circling motion. "And then he wanted Ray's drinks, and Ray gave it to him…"

He left it there. Ramona quirked a brow at his sudden silence, leaning over to try and get a looks at his downcast face. She was a bit surprised to see the sheer horror on his countenance.

"It was…the one that Ray gave to Wallace was poisoned. It killed him. And-and I felt it too! Like, as if I were Wallace, I was feeling everything he felt. And when the poison started kicking in, I—"

"Okay, Scott, it's going to be alright, okay?" Ramona interjected. "It was just a dream. That's all it was. There's no reason to get so worked up about it. It's not real." She grabbed Scott's hand and gripped it firmly. "Just calm down, Scott. It's alright, Wallace is fine."

Scott gulped. "But…but what if it happened?" He returned Ramona's gesture and held her hand tightly. "What if Wallace DID get hurt? What if I'm a psychic now, and I can predict events to come? Like that one guy on Heroes, kinda."

"Scott."

"Yeah?"

"Get your head out of your ass." Ramona deadpanned, all signs of worry fleeing from her voice. "Why the hell would you be psychic? I think I would've known by now."

Scott considered. "Well…yeah, but still! What if Wallace is hurt, or dead?"

The American rolled her eyes once more and produced her phone from the bedside drawer. She flipped it open and promptly sent Wallace a text message.

"Who're you texting?" Scott asked meekly, sitting up straighter as he tried to get a peek at Ramona's cell phone.

"Wallace." Was her simple reply.

"Oh," Scott answered. "Well…what if he's too busy being dead to get to his phone—"

"Here." Ramona shoved the phone into Scott's face, the display screen facing him. "Will this shut you up?"

From: Wallace Wells

Received at 11:25 am, March 23

heeeeyy! 3 im a little tispy right now, we just got back from the bar. do u have the keys?...oh wait, we dont live there anymore. oh well, just wanted to say hi! hit me up when you can, ok?

"Well…he replies fast, doesn't he?" Scott quipped quietly.

Crossing her arms in victory, Ramona smirked. "See? He's perfectly fine, just drunk. Stop going by what you see in your dreams and focus on what you have in reality."

Scott blinked. "You mean, like you?"

Ramona paused before a small smile crept upon her lips. "Yeah, like me." She said before the two shared a sweet kiss.

After Ramona left for work, Scott sat at the kitchen table alone, absently patting Gideon the cat. Instead of spending his day off playing video games like he had planned, he simply sat there.

The dreams were starting to piece something together in his mind. His gears, albeit very rusty, were spinning, trying to connect the two dreams. They had to be related somehow, but Scott couldn't figure out how and why.

He would just have to wait for the next to come.

Chapter Two! Yeah, Wallace could've been Lust, but I gave him Gluttony because I'm saving Lust for someone else. Next up is Kim as Wrath (B.V. The Epic got this right! Kudos to you!). I apologize if this chapter isn't good. I would greatly appreciate any constructive criticism.

Leave a word, or some sign that you've stopped by! Laters!

Grin.